


Bloodborne: The Birth of Insomnia

by Peaches_is_gay



Category: Bloodborne (Video Game)
Genre: Bloodborne Lore, Don't Have to Know Bloodborne (Video Game), Gen, Origin Story, Pre-Bloodborne (Video Game), The Old Hunters DLC
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-05
Updated: 2021-01-22
Packaged: 2021-03-15 06:55:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28559433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Peaches_is_gay/pseuds/Peaches_is_gay
Summary: In distant dreams among countless stars, celestial Great Ones reside in prisons. Their eldritch cries for help only heard by those of humanity with the greatest of insight and acted upon by those of greatest compassion. Only one is destined to find the truth of these cries while others around her fall to a curse their forefathers brought upon them. In the streets of Yharnam, a fire starts and so does a friendship that will lead many suffering Great Ones to their freedom and lead many more to their certain death. A war will be waged by both man and god over needs and wants unknown and one child will have the will and mind to end it. But first, a citizen transforms into a terrifying beast and a poor unwitting child must run.
Relationships: Brador/Laurence (Bloodborne)
Kudos: 3





	1. Warden

The night is long and full of beasts, their nightmares deep and overflowing with an ocean of their sin. Their minds are strong but no longer present, trapped in sleep as the body rages on until both are crushed and reduced to blood. So the sinners coalesce in sickly scarlet pools, awaiting otherworldly breath to ripple their surface. Calling for help to creatures too awake to understand despite their innumerable eyes gazing up into the heavens. And deep below consciousness stirs among a sea of mindless bodies. A curse to be placed, a child to be lost, and a slaughter soon to come.

Beginning with mankind as they did, huddled among their dim-lit streets. So below these creatures are from what they reach for but for one who learns they must reach lower. And another who knows the calls from above but chooses not the simple path to listen to them. Brandishing his well-worn tools and splattering the night’s sea of stars with the flesh of those he keeps well hidden. Though well is not perfection, for no man can reach for such, and among the cramped victorian streets bursts aflame a residence. A residence soon to release the young woman destined to hear the cries of those above. A plume of smoke alerting him he hefts his scythe with dread. Another beast among the streets of man, and so the Hunter hunts.

Celenia burst from her front door, landing clumsily on the cobbled pavement outside. She could hear monstrous roars among the crackling fire behind her and struggled to stand back up as quickly as she could. She managed to flip herself onto her back and she saw the beast slam into the frame of her home’s smoldering doorway, sending the sound of violent cracks echoing through the moonlit streets. The monster towered over Celenia and it was covered in the shreds of the clothing it had worn before it turned. Scrambling to her feet, Celenia kept her eyes on the beast and watched as its chaotic ram made the doorway buckle and a flaming board of wood landed on its hunched neck. The blow made the beast recoil and Celneia wasted no time turning and dashing down the street.

There were a few others who followed her. Though she hadn’t noticed, the fire that was consuming her home had spread to the neighboring buildings, and the residents were fleeing the burning husks of their houses. Behind them all among the backdrop of the all-consuming fire the great beast let a howl echo into the moonlit night, filling the tight streets of Cathedral Ward with an augur that the scourge was upon them. Many knew of the whispers of the men who turned into creatures in the night but now the raging fire lit the figure of those rumors and cast its shadow into reality. All of Yharnam was to be consumed by themselves and the first to be devoured by the now known scourge would be Celenia. Or it would be were it not for the Hunter on his way to the fiery hunt.

Dashing through the tangled web of streets, Celenia thought for a moment that she might have escaped from the monster. She had the grim hope consume her that it had gone after one of the many other screams that filled the streets that night. And as she felt safe enough to turn and look at the clattering sounds behind her the hope washed away in a wave of only terror. The beast was in pursuit, lunging toward her on all fours, its sickly yellow eyes glinting with nothing but a hunger Celenia could not describe. She turned back to her escape, ducking off to one side into a nearby ally as the creature rushed past, barely missing her with its misshapen, outstretched claws, and gruesome, slobbering maw.

Celenia continued her fleeing through streets and alleys, past lit windows of those who were awoken by the ferocious growling and clatter that followed her. The beast gave chase like a storm threatening to strike her if she stayed under its clouds too long. Even as she dodged and turned through small streets and winding back roads it was still only ever inches behind her. Though Celenia’s running was panicked she had a destination in mind and she risked running back onto the open streets toward the gates of Cathedral Ward that led into the center of the city. It was a part of the city she knew well and a part of the city her sickly aunt never wandered. Celenia hoped that even as she was a beast it would give her an advantage over the poor woman.

As she passed through the metallic gates that separated the two parts of the city Celenia felt a slight relief. Her mind calmed as she knew she might now gain distance from the monster she once knew. The calm continued until something sharp dug itself into her ankle and she fell forward, slamming face-first into cobblestone. One of the beast's razor-sharp claws was sunk shallowly into her tarsus and though she didn’t yet feel the pain of the wound, Celenia could feel the hot breath of the beast on her heels.

The monster paused its ferocious movements, simply sitting over its prey as if knowing that it had already won. Shivering with both the cold of the night and the fear of her situation Celenia felt the beast unhook its claw from her ankle and move up her body until it was completely on top of her, its pungent saliva dripping on her neck. She felt her terror building up as a knot in her throat, choking her and blocking a scream she so desperately wanted to release. She braced herself to be ripped to pieces by the fearsome, tooth-lined mouth of her aunt turned beast, not wanting to accept her death but seeing no other choice but to do so. The creature’s hind paws collided with her legs as it shifted its weight to strike then… the body above her was suddenly gone and Celenia heard a wet ripping and a thud on the ground behind her. More sounds of struggle ensued and in a moment of impulsive fear she turned herself on the ground to see the beast recovering before her, a massive gash now present across its snout.

Celenia saw an opportunity to run again but didn’t have the bravery to take it, instead sitting, paralyzed. The beast in front of her splattered blood across the ground as it lunged forward. It had its mouth stretched wide and Celenia could see down its discolored throat through its yellow teeth which were dripping in its own blood. Before the bite connected, however, a blade swung itself between the faces of predator and prey, sticking itself deep into the beast’s face and tearing its skin in two. A disgusting thud sounded out as the flesh rending blade struck the monster’s skull. The creature’s momentum continued it down the blade, though by this point Celenia could see the fearsome light of bloodlust had already faded from its eyes, one of which was now burst in half by the weapon stuck through the monster's twisted face. It took only a moment for the body of the beast to go limp and slump on top of her, drenching her lap and stomach with a mixture of drool, blood, and loose flesh which was only further worsened by the blood splatter that followed the blade being removed from its head.

Celenia cared little for the dead mess that now lay on top of her. She could focus only on the sound of her heart beating in her ears as all her senses beyond that faded in and out like she was waking up while still in a deep dream. A dark red pool formed around her as the beast let its innards spill onto the stone-paved street, drenching Celenia’s clothes and skin with its corrupted blood. Celenia’s breath was stopped, her mind spun around itself and the fear tightening her throat felt as if it was intending on killing her as if the monster’s spirit was still gripping her neck with its jaws in vengeance. Her world shrunk to only herself and the pile of unrecognizable flesh and fur that lay atop her. There was little more than a whisper that reached her mind from the outside world until the whisper became a growl.

“Or you can drown in its blood for all I care,” A grisly voice came from behind Celenia, slowly dragging her out of herself and back to the waking world.

She took a moment to choke on her words before she found her throat could function once more. “What… what did you say…?” she asked the voice, unable to tear her gaze away from the popped eye of the fallen beast to see who the voice belonged to.

“I said,” the voice sounded annoyed. “Do you need help getting that thing off of you?”

Celenia turned her head slowly, fighting her instincts to stay frozen in her place forever, and saw a man in thick, black and red garb behind her. He was almost as tall as the beast had stood and his face was obscured by a bush of matted beard hair. His clothes were draped over his body in many different layers, making his towering figure even larger and more imposing alongside the strange wooden contraption that was strapped to his back, spanning his entire height. In his hand was a massive blade, curved upward to a point and glinting an otherworldly blue-black in the moonlight. His wide-brimmed hat left his eyes in complete shadow and with such an unreadable being standing behind her, covered in the dripping blood of a beast he’d slain, Celelia felt her fear strike through her shocked numbness to freeze her again.

The grim figure knelt down, though Celelia still had to look up to see the man's shaded face. He set his curved sword down on the road and it made a faint metal clatter as he brought his hat down from his head. The wood strung together on his back framed his hair which was long enough to reach down to his shoulders, wavy and messy as his beard was. With his brim no longer shading his eyes Celenia saw something she did not expect to see that night; the man’s brow was furrowed with worry, staring at her with an unexpected softness. The look only persisted for a moment and he looked away to reach for the shoulder of the limp beast, pushing it off of Celenia’s legs. He spoke as he pushed.

“How old are you?” The man asked, still keeping his gaze away from hers as he reached for his blade once again.

Celenia kept staring at him in awe. Finally being conscious enough to realize who had saved her. She wasted no time answering so she could get in her question. “I’m eighteen. Are you the Hunter?”

The man seemed to pause for a moment when she asked the question. He grumbled quietly before responding. “That’s too young for this. Stay out of Cathedral Ward, it's not safe for a kid like you anymore.”

“But you saved me!” Celenia felt the motivation to get her answer overcome the fear that still persisted in her quickly beating heart. She stood as the man turned to leave, faltering a bit when she put weight on her injured foot. “That's what you do right? The Hunter keeps us safe from the ones that turn.”

“That's not what I do,” The man turned his head to speak but did not stop walking away.

Celenia used the new emotions flowing over her to cover her lingering panic and pain as she began following the Hunter. The towering contraption on his back shifted and clattered against itself as he returned his hat to his head and Celenia looked at it with wonder, imagining what it might be for.

“You’re limping,” The Hunter growled. “You should go home and take care of your injuries.”

“I can’t go home,” Celenia responded, looking away from her inspection of the Hunters contraption.

“Why not? Would your father be mad at you for staying up past your bedtime?” The man chuckled softly at his own jab.

Celenia stopped walking to explain. “I don’t have a father,” She stated with a shake in her voice. “I don’t have a family, you killed the last of it.”

“My apologies,” The Hunter said dismissively, not stopping his stride.

“And I don’t have a home. It’s probably burned rubble by now.” Celenia stood her ground, staying in place.

Her insistence seemed to work as the Hunter stopped walking away and turned back to her. He drew no closer but at least he’d stopped. “I’m sorry,” He said, sounding genuine. “I didn’t know.”

The two stood in silence with only moonlight and the distant raging fire illuminating them. A cool wind rushed through the Yharnam streets and passed from behind the Hunter, pushing his draped garb along with it. Celenia shivered again when the wave of cold reached her. Even with his hat shading his eyes Celenia could tell he was avoiding her gaze.

“Do you… need a place to stay?” The Hunter asked in a low voice.

Celenia felt hope well up in her chest, but kept herself outwardly composed. “I’ve lived on the street before.”

The man groaned. “You shouldn’t have to… you’re a child.”

“There are lots of children who have to. And I’m not a child,” Celenia retorted.

“Do you want a place to stay or not,” The Hunter asked directly.

Celenia breathed in, her fear and hope at war in her heart but knowing the cold of Yharnam nights she knew her choice. “Yes,” She almost breathed the word, feeling exhaustion finally hit her.

The Hunter lifted his arm and left his hand outstretched. Celenia walked slowly over to him and took his hand. It was rough and covered in small callouses but behind them was a warmth that cut through the night’s chill. She only now realized how much blood she was covered in when it dripped from her hand onto his. “Sorry,” She said to him.

“It's my fault,” The Hunter muttered. “You can wash when we get back.”

The Hunter turned, letting his hand be limp but Celenia kept ahold of it as the two began down the street together.

“Can I hold your sword?” Celenia asked excitedly.

The Hunter grunted, sounding almost amused. “It’s a scythe... and no.”

So from screams and fire and blood to something new the Hunter walked this child to her future. Little she yet knew of what she would discover at the farm of her savior, and even less did she know how little it would change her. And from above the sky darkened like inky water called a mother in sorrow and pain. Crying down to the tiny creatures below, awaiting the one that would hear her and have the sympathy that her kind possessed. The Great Ones calling for something greater.


	2. Hunter

Deep below the blood flows like wine, so the legends say. And so a man did believe as such and sought to be drunken as Pthumeru once was. His prospectors, loyal as they were to his holy cause, did thrust themselves into the dungeons below a wretched city. Each was rewarded with knowledge beyond their minds and both wander their madness forever. So Laurence came upon the healing blood. So the church ruled Yharnam. So the beasts began to appear.

Celenia let herself sink into the basin of lukewarm water the Hunter had given her to bathe in. The bath was unusually placed outside, however, by the size of the house she was bathing behind, Celenia could see why it was. The building was a sturdy little farmhouse with a winding path and stairs leading to its front door. On one side the house was supported by a stone wall that held the dirt up behind it and had another path splitting off from the one leading to the farmhouse’s entrance. That path was the one Celenia was led up by the Hunter so he could show her where to clean herself off. Surrounding her were a number of trees and a mess of unkempt grass and weeds that lined the little dirt path leading up to her bathing basin. In the grass by Celenia’s bath was the clothing she'd tossed aside, still stained with blood and now giving off a sickly stench.

Towering over the little farm a distance away was the Grand Cathedral which stretched into the sky far above the streets below. The great clock tower at the top covered part of the full moon that filled the city with its eerie blue light. Across from the view, the path that led to the farmhouse wound its way up to a small doorway in the side of a large cylindrical tower. The tower itself reached all the way from the lower streets up to the streets of Cathedral Ward, separating the two populations by a symbolic change of height. There were no windows in the tower but Celenia knew what the inside looked like as she had to make her way down the rickety wooden scaffolds to follow the Hunter to his home.

Though the part of the city she had been brought to was strange, Celenia had her attention fully on herself. She soaked calmly in her bathwater and scrubbed the stains of dirt and blood from her skin. She began washing her short, dark hair and could see ash from the fire in her home fall out of the curls that were draped in front of her eyes. With the bathwater swirling with a mixture of mud and scarlet strands that refused to dilute into it, Celenia’s washing was almost complete when the door on the side of the farmhouse opened. The Hunter stepped out, having shed a few layers of clothing since Celenia last saw him. In his hands was a messy pile of clothes, far bigger than the ones Celenia was wearing before but also far less bloody. When the Hunter looked around he seemed to notice Celenia was still bathing and he quickly moved his head away from her.

He coughed before speaking. “I found these… they’ll be big on you but they’re clean.” The Hunter took a step closer and held out the clothing, still awkwardly averting his eyes.

Celenia stood up, dripping with discolored water and wondering why he was acting so strange. Though she had quickly understood the looks he’d given her on their way to the run-down farm; she was still too naive to understand the respect that the man was giving her. The nude girl stepped out of the basin and towards the Hunter, causing him to turn his head even further as she took the pile of clothes from his hands. At this point, she knew he was averting his gaze not for her but for himself.

“Why won't you tell me your name?” Celenia asked, turning back to place the clean clothes near her basin. She had asked him a few times on the way to the farmhouse but each time the Hunter refused to divulge anything personal.

The Hunter grunted. “I don’t want you getting attached. I’m just helping you for the night, nothing more.” He turned the rest of his body away, settling into a more comfortable and casual stance before speaking again, quieter this time. “I won't be the one to put you through more of this.”

“More?” Celenia said quickly, turning her head to look at the Hunter. The man visibly flinched at the word, though Celenia wasn’t sure if it was due to his earlier awkwardness or if he hadn’t intended her to hear the comment. There was silence for a while, only broken by the sound of water dripping from Celenia’s skin onto the grass beneath her feet. She looked expectantly at the Hunter, both of them clearly knowing that he owed Celenia and explanation.

“The things you’ve seen tonight,” The Hunter began, finally breaking the silence. “They would send men mad, but you… You’re just a girl and yet you face blood and beasts and return to your sanity with no difficulty. It may send men to madness but you have seen more than any mere man.”

“How can you be so sure of what I’ve seen?” Celenia pressed him, starting to feel patronized by the Hunter’s apprehension to speak his full thoughts.

“I’m not. I know only what I have seen myself but I have also seen what I’ve turned into. And I see that same transformation in you. I’ve seen horrors that would kill the minds and bodies of weaker men so what you’ve seen to turn you into something so familiar… I can’t begin to want to imagine.”

“You assume we’re alike.” Celenia narrowed her eyes at the Hunter. “I am not alike to you. I may have seen horrors but I don’t cower behind them to vainly shield an innocence that is clearly gone. Nor do I avert my eyes from that perceived innocence in attempt to reconcile their wandering beforehand. You clearly don’t want to treat me like a child, so don’t. If what I’ve seen is what you’re interested in, then what I’ve seen are things that turn a girl into a woman and are now turning you into a boy.” Celenia let out a heavy breath and attempted to prevent the prideful smile that began creeping across her face. She had tried hard to mimic the scholarly tone of the Hunter in her retort, hoping that she would impress him enough for him to finally speak with her as an equal. 

The Hunter was quiet for a while and Celenia waited, frozen in her spot by the washbasin. Soon the tall man shifted, his draping coat waving along with his movements, and threw his head back. A dark, echoing cackle filled the night and Celenia broke her posture. Retreating into herself a bit, she was unsure whether or not the Hunter was laughing at her but when he finished and began to speak again she understood.

The Hunter turned to face Celenia, staring her dead in the eyes from the shadows of his wide-brimmed hat. “My name is Gehrman, and this,” he gestured to the farmhouse at his side. “Is the Hunter’s Workshop.”

Celenia threw the baggy shirt over her head to hide her beaming, excited expression. She wasn’t yet dry so she dampened the shirt as it fell onto her shoulders, but it was better damp with water than with blood. The clothing was obviously Gehrman’s, being far too big for Celenia but not wide to accommodate the Hunter’s tall but lean figure. Celenia didn’t bother with the pants as the waistband would surely fall from her hips and the shirt reached down far enough to cover anything the pants might have been useful for.

Now technically fully clothed, Celenia watched Gehrman gesture his arm to the open door of the workshop, inviting her inside. Through the dark wooden doors, the small, candlelit interior of the workshop felt like another world to the pale blue light outside. Each wall met the floor in a pile of any number of objects or furniture; a bookcase on one side, a mirror opposite, a workbench scattered with parts and tools, and in between, piles of papers and books making up the rest of the cramped clutter. One of which was a book that bore a title confirming Celenia’s suspicions on Gehrman’s respectful interest in her body. The cover read ‘How to Pick Up Fair Maidens.’

Immediately, Celenia made her way over to the worktable and looked closer at the tools on it. She recognized a few of them from when her father let her watch him smithing but others were foreign to her. Even more unfamiliar were the hunks of metal still shining blue in the orange light that filled the workshop. It seemed to be the same metal that Gehrman’s scythe was made from but it wasn’t an alloy Celenia had seen before. She brushed aside the thoughts of the alien blade and swiftly grabbed a woodcarving knife that lay on one of the far ends of the table. Though she didn’t mind exposing herself to anyone, Celenia still knew better than to be in a stranger's home while half-naked and with no method of defense.

Gehrman followed her in, lagging behind long enough for Celenia to hide the fact that she’d taken the knife from his workbench. “Not what you hoped?” the Hunter asked.

“I don’t know what I hoped.” Celenia took another look around the one-room building. She noticed a statue against the wall opposite the front door which the mess of the workshop didn’t quite reach. She realized that the statue, depicting a woman hunched over with silky garments draped over her, was similar to the ones she’d seen near the Grand Cathedral. “Did the church build this house?” She asked.

Gehrman took a seat in a chair that sat near the workshop’s side door. He didn’t respond verbally but gave a small nod as he sat down to answer Celenia’s question. Celenia didn’t quite know what else to say now. She was in the house and workshop of a man she only heard of in local myth, stuck in only a large damp shirt, and knowing she should have innumerable questions to ask the Hunter but instead her mind was blank. Despite this Celenia still attempted to find a beginning to a conversation as to not lose such a chance to her head being empty.

“Why are there so many books?” Celenia knew it was grasping but it was the best she could manage.

In the distance, a small bell could be heard rattling against itself while the Hunter let out a heavy sigh. “I hail from Byrgenwerth, the college to the south. One of a scholar’s many tools are the books that he made himself a scholar with.” Though he was still speaking more properly than most Yharnamites, it was clear that the Hunter was speaking as casually as he could, the deep, calm, rolling thunder of his voice backed by more airy sounds now.

“Just like Laurence,” Celenia made the connection to the great scholar she’d learned of. The man who came from the strange southern college to heal the city with his ancient blood and mysterious church. The background to her recollection being the tiny distant bell bouncing in time with soft footsteps. “Do you know him?” She questioned further.

“Yes, I knew him back then,” Gehrman gave his answer quickly but took time to formulate further explanation, seeming distressed somewhat. “Many scholars came here from Byrgenwerth on many different missions. It appears that Laurence was the most successful of us all, however.”

Celenia swayed her hips in a touch of boredom, wanting to move about and inspect the workshop further as they talked but knowing that she might reveal the knife behind her back if she did. “What was your mission then?” She continued. “Did you come here to study beasts?” The ringing bell grew louder.

“No, not for your beasts.” There was a falter in Gehrman’s voice as he was interrupted by another ring of the echoing bell. “The beasts of Yharnam appeared after I arrived. My mission has… changed since I took my leave from the college.” Another ring interrupted, this time sounding just outside the workshop’s walls.

“So what’s your mission now?”

The sound of the bell stopped.

Hide them, he said. Keep quiet the roars of the warped townsfolk, keep them from the prying eyes of their peers. Shred the fur and blood and bones and let none know of our mistakes. Hide them, keep the beasts asleep in bloody cradles of each their own. That, old friend, is my request. Hide my beasts and the church will keep its power. Hunt dear Hunter. And keep your hunt your deadly secret.


	3. Burial

From above the stars that gazed down upon the waking world and hid behind them the lands of waning consciousness a great rock fell. Upon its violent landing, a hidden farm was struck and so awoke the scholar who owned it. The learned man of many skills found himself with land destroyed and an alloy from the heavens. Knowing of beasts and hearing their pain he struck the rock to pieces and used the blessed metal to enhance his farming scythe. And so it became the tool of legend, the siderite scythe of the Hunter; the blade destined to bury a Great One.

An unsettling silence fell over the workshop and Gehrman ignored Celenia’s last question, looking instead at the front door expectantly. Celenia followed his gaze, turning to see a figure behind the translucent windows of the workshop entrance. The shadow rose in height above what the windows could show and had what looked like an antler sticking out from its side. All of it seemed to be covered in matted fur and Celenia expected the silence to be broken by the roar of a mighty beast. Perhaps her aunt was back from the dead and warped into further monstrousness.

But instead of a horrifying roar, there was only a knock. And still the heavy knock shattered the silence violently, making Celenia jump and pull her knife to her side, ready to defend herself. Gehrman was less surprised but still had a look of anxious worry painted over his face as he stood and walked slowly to his front doors. Celenia thought to hide the knife from him but her arm was fixed in place, trapped in readiness to strike at whatever lay behind the dingy windows. The Hunter either didn’t notice or didn’t care as he wasn’t stopped in his movement to the doors. At an agonizing pace, Gehrman placed his hand on one of the door’s small handles and pulled it open.

At the first moment the door began to move both of them were forced open and Gehrman stepped backward, somehow still holding on to his composure. Celenia was far less talented in doing so and took a few panicked steps backward, tripping when her heel hit the step that separated the back end of the workshop from the slightly lower floor of the front. The wound in her ankle began to ache from the hit and she felt it give way when she tried to use it to prevent her fall. Her knife landed beneath her hand harmlessly as she caught her descent, landing in a sitting position with both hands on the ground behind her. Celenia’s eyes were still stuck staring at the now gaping doorway that let cool night winds flow in from behind the terrifying figure.

With the creature now illuminated by the interior candlelight, Celenia saw it had the face of a man, but the rest of it was draped in layers of fur and patches of blood. From the man’s head sprouted two antlers but with the fur coat covering his body and head, it was unclear whether they were from his garb or if he was already turning into a beast. There was something slung over his shoulder which gave his silhouette its gargantuan height. It was a mass of black fur that hung limply in the man’s grip and looking between the beastly man’s legs Celenia could see that it was leaving a trail of blood. Wordlessly, the visitor threw the mass of blood and fur from his shoulder and it slammed into the floor with a fleshy thud. Accompanying the movement was the dull sounds of the bell that had foretold the man's arrival.

“I bring a gift,” The man spoke directly to Gehrman, who now had the dead body of a beast resting at his feet. His voice was higher pitched than Celenia would have expected from such a beast-like creature, but his tone still demanded attention and Celenia’s fear obligated her to give it to him. “You forgot to hide it.” The man continued.

“Brador,” Gehrman named the man. “Hiding it is useless. The hunt is known tonight.”

As the two continued to speak, Celenia brought herself to tear her gaze from Brador and looked down at the mass of freshly cut beast flesh that filled the workshop floor. Realizing what it must have been she breathed, “It's her…”

The two men before her stopped their conversation, and to Celenia’s dismay, she locked eyes with Brador. He stared at her with the same hunger she’d seen in the once bright eyes of the beast she’d been chased by and in the few moments before she tore her gaze from his face she saw it twist into a smirk. Her heart was beating fast again and she heard the knife beneath her hand rattle against the wooden floor as she began to shake.

Brador chuckled weakly. “My apologies for interrupting your pleasantries, Gehrman.”

The Hunter was still staring at the beastly man, undistracted by Celenia’s interjection. “A fair assumption, but no. She’s a child.”

“Didn’t know you were the type,” Brador said tauntingly, taking a few steps closer to Celenia, each creaking board that met his boots making her heart beat faster. “I’d be disgusted if I were anyone but myself.”

“Leave her alone.” Gehrman put his hand on the visitor’s shoulder to stop his approach. “Your business doesn’t include her so don’t drag her into it.”

“Ah yes, my business.” Brador turned away to face Gehrman again, finally letting Celenia breathe a sigh of relief. The man brought himself close to the Hunter and began to whisper, just loud enough for Celenia to strain to overhear. “The discovery of the hunt is on you tonight, friend. Laurence won't be joyful for that. He’s not planning on letting you keep your lonely act for long now. I would recommend you comply with my dear Laurence lest he’s forced to end your primitive workshop prematurely, understood?”

“This isn’t a business for the many. My work is silent and private and I cannot agree with additions to our ranks.” Gehrman spoke in the same hushed tone.

Brador chuckled. “It isn’t private anymore. Agreement isn’t for me to decide for you but I will say… if you won’t, I can assure you that you and maybe even your new little toy will be fearing the bell for the rest of your short little lives.”

Gehrman moved quickly, his arm whipping upward from his side to allow him to grip the furred collar of the beastly man, bringing their faces close to touching. “Threaten me all you like, creature, but she is not a part of our twisted world and I won’t allow her to be taken into it.” He spat the words into Brador’s face with a distaste so strong Celenia winced as the Hunter spoke. Brador didn’t even react, not attempting to defend himself or retaliate.

“She is safe from no twisted world, but fine. Should Laurence require it, your life is all that I’ll take. As long as you do something for me in return.” Celenia could hear the amusement rising in the man's voice. He was hardly taking this seriously.

“I will perform none of your sick games you-” Gehrman began.

Brador quickly interrupted him. “Fix that face of yours, dear Hunter. We both know how Laurence is and you wouldn’t want me getting jealous, would you?”

The beastly man grabbed Gehrman’s wrist and led the Hunter’s hand away from gripping at his collar. His layered fur clothing rustled against itself so loudly as Brador turned for the door that Celenia almost didn’t hear the beginning of the visitor’s final words.

“Oh, and, of course,” He began still somewhat in a whisper. “That thing wants to see you. I’ll be bringing him tomorrow. I look forward to actually seeing your face!” Gehrman closed the workshop doors as Brador spoke his final words, ending the exit of the creature with a dull, mechanical click as the doors locked shut. The Hunter let out a deep, exhausted sigh before turning around to rest his gaze on Celenia. She was still stuck in her position, no longer shaking but still very much afraid. Moving closer to her, Gehrman leaned down and reached for the knife that still rested beneath Celenia’s hand, speaking in a surprisingly calm and hushed tone as he did so.

“You shouldn’t-” As the Hunter began, Celenia realized what he was doing and grabbed ahold of the knife quickly, clutching it protectively to her chest. “...have that.”

He let out another sigh, seemingly having had enough of the night. The Hunter turned away and walked slowly to the dead beast on his floor, picking it up by one of its legs and dragging it back to the front door. Gehrman waited in front of the doors for a short while before leaving, making Celenia think that maybe his lack of fear of the beastly visitor was only performance.

“Find your own place to sleep,” Gehrman said somewhat dismissively as he opened the workshop doors. “I still have work to do.”

Celenia watched the Hunter exit the doors, followed by the limp beast he dragged behind him. As the doors closed once more with a quiet click, she felt the fear Brador had instilled in her finally leave her mind and she shifted her position to attempt to stand up. Her first attempt wasn’t very successful as her injured ankle buckled beneath her again, sending her falling backward. The yipe of pain she let out followed by the dull thud of her landing bounced around the walls of the workshop, breaking the eerie silence that the Hunter had left Celenia in.

Not yet ready to try again, Celenia looked around to see if the little workshop actually had anywhere to sleep. She hadn’t noticed even a makeshift bedspread when she first inspected the innards of the converted farmhouse and still she saw nothing that indicated anyone actually lived in it. There was no place to eat, bathing was to be done outside, and there wasn’t a soft place to rest in sight. It was as if the Hunter was as inhuman as the beasts he hunted, never sleeping or eating only ever brandishing his scythe against monsters in the night. Celenia knew this couldn’t be true, however, and she pushed the thought from her mind before standing up once more, being far more successful this time.

As she stood Celenia saw the chair the Hunter sat in earlier from the corner of her eye. Perhaps that was where he slept? Celenia had slept in a number of uncomfortable places before and was sure she would be able to fall asleep on the chair eventually, but would Gehrman? And there was still no explanation for his food. Celenia wracked her brain for answers, creeping anxiety building up in her stomach that she may have made a mistake going home with a strange older man who kills beasts in the middle of the night. Her first conclusion, that the Hunter eats what he hunts, was rather unsatisfactory to her so Celenia settled on thinking he must have somewhere else to sleep and eat. Some farms had barns so perhaps in the changing of his home into the workshop, Gehrman converted an old barn to his new living space.

With the conclusion being satisfying enough, Celenia walked to the side door she’d entered from, still clutching the carving knife tightly to her chest. As she opened the creaking door she thought that if she was wrong and the Hunter truly didn’t sleep she could use the knife to turn the outdoor overgrowth into a soft place to rest.

The cool night wind whipped through the doors and filled the workshop once more, making the candlelight flicker and dim for a few moments behind Celenia. As the chill of the outside air touched her bare legs Celenia shivered, halting her forward progress through the doorway. Though she knew he was gone from the moonlit farm she felt as if the presence of the beastly visitor had left an imprint on the chills in the air. Like the night held a memory of all the fearful sights Celenia had witnessed during it and the air hitting her skin returned those memories to her. Cautiously, she stepped from the wooden boards of the workshop onto the dirt outside.

As she made her way down the curved path to the side of the workshop the tufts of messy grass reached out and tickled Celenia’s legs. Occasionally brushing her wounded ankle with such softness that it seemed as if the plant knew of the injury’s tenderness. She still limped slightly as she walked, but the pain was far duller than it had been before her bath and it was far more tolerable to make her way through the tiny paths of the Hunter’s farm. When Celenia reached the main path that led to the tower connecting the little farm to Cathedral Ward she looked around, searching for further winding pathways she might have missed on her way in. The hunter was nowhere to be seen so there had to be something she didn’t notice.

Eventually, after slowly sauntering down the path, Celenia saw the little metal fence that lined the property broke at one point into a gate. Stepping up to the cast iron bars that made up the fence, Celenia looked through to try to spot where Gehrman had vanished off to or another building where his living space might have been. Behind the black metal bars was a sight she did not expect. She did expect a larger swathe of land but the state it was in when she set her gaze on it took her by surprise. The large field before her consisted of dry, upturned soil that sloped downward in a bowl to a central point. The edges were steep and messy with rough piles of dirt sometimes covering the fence that surrounded the field. The few edges that seemed more flat and normal were still lacking in vegetation and the entire piece of land had no indication that it had ever been farmed on. In the center of the bowl of earth was a small creator that housed a strange lump of rock. The boulder seemed to have been broken apart and laid in the central spot in multiple large chunks.

Across the drab view, Celenia saw the Hunter, digging into the opposite end of the crater, the body of her aunt slumped on the ground beside him. In the area immediately surrounding the Hunter, there was a mess of several small markers stuck into the dirt. A pitiful graveyard for his prey, Celenia assumed.

Opening the gate with a soft, metallic screech, Celenia made her way into the crater. The land just before the entry gate sloped downward at a sharp angle and Celenia had to carefully lower herself down the slope until the ground beneath her feet leveled out enough for her to be confident on her injured foot. Gehrman still hadn’t noticed her. Even when she made her way around the side of the massive crater, the Hunter seemed completely intent on his work of gravedigging. Walking up beside him, Celenia made up an excuse for her nosiness to get his attention.

“I couldn’t sleep,” She said expectantly.

The Hunter didn’t turn away from his work but did grunt to acknowledge her presence.

Celenia continued. “I suppose I should be here. Since it’s my aunt’s funeral.”

“It's no proper funeral.” Gehrman finally spoke, sticking the head of his shovel into the dirt beside the shallow grave he’d dug. “But yes, I suppose you should be.”

The two stood in silence for a moment, staring into the small dingy grave that awaited the body of the beast near them, which Celenia could now smell the putrid rot of death coming off of.

Gehrman moved to lift the beast’s body and shift it into the hole. “Care to speak a few words? The least we can give the poor thing,” the Hunter asked.

Celenia took a moment to think, watching Gehrman diligently cover the bloody fur of the dead monster with soil.

“She wasn’t kind,” she began. “But she wasn’t cruel. She was a person… I think she deserved better.”

“They all deserved better,” the Hunter added, seemingly talking about the other unmarked graves around them. He then spoke seemingly to the body he was burying himself. “May you rest well and not be haunted by the nightmares of what became of you.”

“You’re so kind to them,” Celenia said, somewhat confused.

Gehrman kept shoveling as he spoke. “They’re people. Or they were. Least I can do for their troubles is to respect what’s left of them.”

“Like how you’re kind to me?”

Gehrman finished his work and shoved his shovel back into the dirt. “Don’t confuse respect with kindness. Good people are kind, people are respectful, beasts are neither.”

Silence fell over the two once more as Celenia wasn’t completely sure what Gehrman was trying to tell her. Eventually, her mind wandered from the topic though and she found herself fixating on a memory of what Brador had said.

“Brador said you wouldn’t be allowed to be alone much longer.” This comment seemed to truly catch the attention of the Hunter and he turned to Celenia quickly.

“Don’t listen to what comes from that man’s maw,” He said to her. “My lonely hunt is to stay lonely.”

Celenia could hear frustration edging in Gehrman’s voice but she pressed forward with the question she’d wanted to ask from the moment she realized there was a slim chance of it being answered with a ‘yes.’

“What if I hunted with you?” She asked, hopeful but already knowing the answer. “I have nowhere else to go, but I could be help-”

“Go back to the workshop.” The Hunter interrupted her with a growl. Celenia began to protest but the clear frustration that Gehrman emitted was apparently more intense than she had thought. The Hunter practically ripped the blade of his scythe from his back, swiftly placing it threateningly close to Celenia’s chest as he spoke again, almost yelling the words into the night. “No more than I will hunt! No man, nor woman, nor… child… shall find themselves facing beasts but I. The world you take your interest in is not kind to any who enter it nor does it leave you with respect when you may want to leave. Go home, little girl. The beasts are mine, and mine alone.”

The Hunter’s words echoed up into the sky, whose edge was painted pink by the sun threatening to soon rise. Yharnam had lived to see another sunrise, but it was unclear how many more it would survive to.

Calling from below the savage streets, in catacombs lost to time. A howl to meet the ailing moon rose up from the depths of the mind. Met with voices beyond her ears and paper out of reach. Carved into skin and blood she made her first rune. Beast.


End file.
